


The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

by EdwardHyde



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adultery, During Canon, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, M/M, My First Hamilton Fic, Public Hand Jobs, Romance, Song: The Story of Tonight (Reprise), bold adultery a couple hours after your fuCKING WEDDING BUT OKAY ALEX YOU DO YOU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdwardHyde/pseuds/EdwardHyde
Summary: Aaron Burr arrives after Alexander's wedding (he couldn't bear to watch the ceremony). He is drunk. Alex is drunk. They both say some things they don't mean, or maybe they do.





	The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

Aaron Burr entered the Schuyler manor, squeezing past crowds of overly friendly and inebriated aristocrats and revolutionaries alike, trying not to be noticed. He scanned the crowd of moving bodies, searching for someone. Burr wandered into the sunroom, and there he was. Alexander Hamilton, sitting on a table, clearly drunk, surrounded by friends, looking happier than Burr was accustomed to seeing him.

Burr was suddenly acutely aware this was a bad idea, that he was going to bring down the mood by way of his appearance, despite the faint buzz of alcohol slowing his brain down, lowering his inhibitions and notorious self restraint. He had had to get buzzed on liquid courage just to show his face here. The invitation had come weeks ago, and Burr had been debating whether or not to show until the very moment he arrived. He had to, he knew, he couldn’t just not show up to his best friend’s wedding. Regardless of whether Hamilton genuinely wanted him there or only invited him out of politesse.

At least the ceremony itself was over now, so he wouldn’t feel like a wedding crasher. So he didn’t have to see Hamilton kissing someone else, some part of him corrected, but he shut it up. He wasn’t going to think about that. Still, Hamilton didn’t seem to need him here. He was just back in his own head enough to hunch his shoulders a little and start to try to slink away, when he was spotted.

“Well, if it isn't Aaron Burr!” Hamilton roared, sounding so genuinely pleased to see him that Burr relaxed instinctively, forgetting his reservations as he greeted him with a mock salute. “Sir!” He replied with a grin.

“I didn't think that you would make it,” Hamilton admitted, climbing down from his perch to make his way over. His posse trailed him, looking between the two of them like it was a tennis match. “To be sure, sir. I came to say congratulations,” Burr smiled and offered his hand. Hamilton shook it, practically making his entire arm vibrate with his enthusiasm before pulling him into a bear hug. _Lord, he really is drunk,_ Burr thought to himself. Not that he was complaining. Or that he didn’t hug back.  
Hamilton didn’t seem particularly keen to let go, either.

“Spit a verse, Burr,” taunted Laurens, crowding them, and inadvertently reminding Burr of his first meeting with Hamilton. His cheeks flushed at the memory. Hamilton had looked so eager that day, too. Hungry. Beautiful, in a word: with his thick messy hair, dark complexion, high cheekbones. Alarmingly skinny, yet not by any means frail, his shirt a bit tight, revealing a lean, muscular form. And, most hauntingly, those eyes, deep, troubled, desperate. The eyes of a man possessed, he had thought then. The eyes of Icarus, on his steady ascent through the sky. It had transfixed Burr, making him want to save this man from his own inevitable fall. He had wanted to keep Hamilton close, to protect that gleeful shine in his eyes before the world shut it off forever.

This close, Burr could see that, despite the smile lines, Alexander’s deep brown eyes looked the same as when they first met. A suggestion of still greater ambition to come. The thought was sobering, though not nearly enough as it should have been.

Hamilton pulled away, looking a bit annoyed at his friend. “I see the whole gang is here,” Burr acknowledged nervously, sidestepping the request. He recalled how they had resented his response last time, and didn't wish to earn any more of their ire. “You are the worst, Burr,” Lafayette proclaimed, and it was impossible to tell if he was kidding. Not likely, but it was no matter. His eyes drifted back to Hamilton, bathing in the glow of his smile.

Burr was surprised as Alexander shoved past Laurens, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and walking him away. “Ignore them! Congrats to you, Lieutenant Burr,” Here, some distance between him and his lackeys, Alex turned to Burr again, smiling. His smile hardened and curled into something sardonic. “I wish I had your command instead of manning George's journal.” Burr's brow furrowed in confusion. “No, you don't,” he blurted out. How could _Alexander_ ever possibly be jealous of _him_? When he had taken the position Burr had been scheming for. When everywhere he went, people loved him more, offered him more opportunities, despite his abrasive mannerism. Every step for Hamilton was a step up, like climbing a stairway stretching high into the sky, while Burr paced in circles on the ground below, trying to build a ladder. “Yes I do,” Hamilton insisted, his smile gone. “Now, be sensible. From what I hear, you've made yourself indispensable,” Burr replied, poking Alexander's chest lightly for emphasis. He successfully kept his tone neutral, he thought, despite the jealousy tinting his thoughts darker with greed and desperation.

And then his posse caught back up, approaching from behind so that Burr tensed as Laurens leaned over his shoulder, purring “Well, I heard, you've got a special someone on the side, Burr.” Alexander's eyes lit up. “Is that so!” He seemed inappropriately interested, and sounded a bit smug. Burr pulled away and Laurens reached for his arm. “What are you trying to hide, Burr?” Laurens asked, snickering. Burr stepped away, deeply uncomfortable. He hadn't wanted Hamilton to hear about that. He didn't know what to think of his reaction to the news, either. “I should go,” Burr said, attempting to extricate himself. “No,” Hamilton insisted, pulling him back in. “These guys should go,” he said, shoving all three of them out of the room. Burr was stunned.

Alex turned back to him with a very different look in his eyes, walking very close and taking him by the hands “It's alright, Burr,” Hamilton assured the confused man, reaching up and massaging his shoulders. Burr's eyes widened, and then he relaxed, just accepting it. When would he get an opportunity like this again? Hamilton didn't seem to have any ulterior motives at the moment, and it was rare to see him so open. The touch was gentle, tracing and pressing gently at his tight shoulder muscles, before moving to his neck, tracing up the naps of his neck slowly and stroking his hair. Burr closed his eyes in pure bliss.

“I wish you'd brought this girl with you tonight, Burr.” Hamilton said softly, a hand tracing down Aaron's chest. He untucked Burr's shirt, reaching up under it to stroke the bare skin slowly. “You're… very kind, but I'm afraid it's unlawful.” Burr murmured, glancing down at him. Hamilton looked up, a smile on his lips, and began kissing Burr's neck. “What do you mean?” Burr bit his lip, stifling a moan. Hamilton's hand had found its way into his breeches, where he was eagerly stroking his cock to hardness. “She's, ah, married.” Hamilton chuckled airily. “I see.” He said, not sounding concerned. Burr was a little too distracted to clarify, leaning his head back as he panted lightly. “Dear Alexander…” He stroked Hamilton's face gently, a thumb running over his beautiful lips. “You're so lovely…” He'd blame this on the drink, he knew. Maybe Hamilton wouldn't even remember. Or would pretend he didn't… he just wanted to enjoy it in the moment.

There came a knock at the door and a sweet, familiar voice called, “Alexander?” Burr flushed, reminded of the impropriety of the moment. This was the _home_ of Alexander’s _father-in-law_. He had _just_ gotten married. And they were here -- making out! Hamilton’s hand was in his breeches! What had he been thinking? He pulled Hamilton’s arm away. “You better go.” Burr murmured. “Your…  bride awaits.” The words sounded sour in his mouth. Hamilton looked at Burr questioningly, sensing the bitterness in his tone, but nodded. “Yes, of course. Coming, Eliza!” He called, and lingered just a moment longer. “This will be you soon, then.” Alexander smiled encouragingly. Burr forced a smile in return. “I’m sure.”

Well, they only had a moment more. Time to say goodbye, with the uncertainty of war defining their next meeting: it could be some days from now. Could be weeks. Could be that he never saw Hamilton again. He tried to put it from his mind. “Congrats again, Alexander.” Burr murmured, and paused, tilting Hamilton’s chin up gently. “Smile more.” He said, softer than his usual refrain. This time it served not as a directive on politics, but a simple reminder to be grateful for how far he’s gotten. There was just a faint bittersweet tinge in the advice -- if Hamilton only listened to him, perhaps he could truly be satisfied.

“I’ll see you on the other side of the war,” He promised, stepping back. Assuming they survived. He was willing to wait for that, wait with the hope of seeing Alexander again, however long it took.  
“I’ll see you on the other side of the war,” Hamilton echoed, sounding hollow, as he turned away to cross back over to his impatient wife. It haunted Burr, as he watched Alexander go. Nobody should sound like that on their wedding day.


End file.
